


two way street

by choiprint



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, also this is kinda based on the intro and outros but that is evident pretty early on, no beta we die like men, this is my attempt at something artsy and poetic i sincerely hope it works, woosan are roommates and besties, wooyoung is very emotionally constipated, yeosang has a penchant for saying random poetry lines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:40:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choiprint/pseuds/choiprint
Summary: "And wooyoung realizes that he still doesn't understand because he'd never ask that of someone. He would never die for someone and he certainly would never want someone to die for him, and maybe that's his dramatic way of saying that he doesn't understand why everyone around him wants love to hurt so bad.'I'd never ask him to because I don't want or need him to,' and he doesn't realize he's said it aloud until he looks up and sees yeosang with the same sad smile he'd first seen him wear two months ago.'Wooyoung, sometimes there is no other way. That is what you're missing. Sometimes, you don't get the option to forgo the sacrifices that come with loving someone or something.'"or, alternatively; wooyoung is just trying to get done with his general education requirements, yeosang likes making excuses for everyone but himself, and maybe they're both not paying attention to what is important.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. wooyoung.

**Author's Note:**

> “No, San, you don’t understand, WHO assigns a final project on the first day?” Wooyoung, ever one for dramatics, throws his head into his hands and lays down on the cafeteria table. 
> 
> “Well, apparently, your creative writing teacher,” San snickered, like he’d just said the joke of the century. He retracts his earlier statement, San is an asshole. 

**[TWO YEARS AGO, SUMMER]**

_ Wooyoung is sitting in a dark room, this is the last time he will ever step foot in this building, and he still hasn’t figured out what color the couch is. He thinks it is probably some off-shade of gray, but every time he looks at it, it morphs from some in between green to some offset of tan, and he doesn’t understand why what he sees is always so much different from what he knows. He’s spent an hour here - give or take - almost every week for two years, and he still doesn’t know the color of the couch. It frustrates him, but he decided a while ago, sometimes he has to figure out things on his own, so it never made its way into the conversation. _

_ “You know, believe it or not Wooyoung, I am actually going to miss you quite a lot,” his therapist had said, breaking him from his trance, “you’re one of the first patients I had when I started working here, in some ways, we grew together.” And he is rather fond of that idea, just like he is fond of the grown woman sitting in front of him.  _

_ “Do you have any last concerns you want to bring into the conversation?” _

_ (Did he?) _

_ “I think I am going to take a little break from a therapist, after all, you’re a hard woman to live up to,” he watches as she chuckles a little bit at his remark, “but also I want to see if I can manage without one for once. Don’t worry about me having no one to talk to, I applied for university housing, so I know the name and major of the kid I’ll be moving in with, he reached out to me via email a few weeks ago, his name is San. He seems nice enough, maybe even a friend.” (Which wooyoung isn’t lying about, he is glad that it appears he is going to get along well with him, maybe even have an actual friend for once) _

_ “Well, that’s good,” she pauses, hesitating, like she seemed to do when there was something she wanted to say, but did not want to push him to, it appears she settled on asking “are you excited?” and Wooyoung asks himself again.  _

_ He guesses he probably was, but he didn’t know if it was important or not. He wasn’t sure a whole lot of what he did and felt was ever really important, but he tended to dodge questions about himself, lest the woman in front of him know too much about him and his emotions. (Ironic considering she is supposed to be the one person he can tell things to.) _

_ (Can? Should have? Oh well.) _

_ He does think about something he wants to talk about, and humors her a little bit, after all, it is likely the last time he is ever going to be sitting in this room again on this (Gray? Tan? Green? Orange maybe? No those don’t sound right) couch.  _

_ “You know that saying that’s like ‘isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes but you look back and suddenly everything is different?’ yea, I think it’s kinda bullshit,” and he starts into his monologue, but he’s not sure if she’s listening to him, because he’s not sure he’s listening to himself either. He has never liked the quote because it’s simply not true, things change all the time, sure, but he is always so aware of the change when it’s happening. How can he not be? It’s not a direct answer to her question, but they both know the answer by the time he’s done. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


**[AUGUST 18 2020, 7:52 am]**

He’s running late to his only writing credit and last general education requirement class he is ever going to have to take at University (or in life he supposes). He doesn’t have time to think about how unfortunate and slightly embarrassing this situation is, because he is too busy hauling ass to make it (on time) to the first 8 am class he’s ever had to take (alluding them until his junior year of college is something he is very proud of, but he thinks maybe he should have gotten the suffering out of the way because he thinks he might be getting too old for this). He rushes in at exactly 7:55 and thanks whatever deity in the universe that is (potentially) looking out for him, that not only is he on time (read: early), but that he is not the only student left sitting there in awkward silence with a teacher. Glancing around he sees a small boy sitting in the corner, looking very much not happy to be awake this early, and sipping coffee so light it probably had more creamer in it than it did actual coffee.    
  
As the clock on the wall quickly reaches 8 o’clock, he sees more student file in, and the teacher begins the dreaded first day introductions. 

* * *

**[AUGUST 18 2020, 9:43 am]**

Wooyoung walked out of his final general education class he’d ever needed in college (and in life - he supposes) and suddenly regretted waiting so long to his writing intensive course out of the way. He headed to the student union because he’d promised to meet up with San (his roommate, partner-in-crime, best friend, general pain in his ass, possibly the only person he’s ever truly loved, and the only person who gives him a headache that rivals the one his little brother back home could give him), and he was looking forward to the sheer amount of complaining he was about to do. (It is his god-given right to complain, is it not?)

It’s not that he was overly pessimistic (he was a sagittarius after all), and it’s not like he was incapable of creative thinking (he did major in 2D art), but wooyoung had developed a certain distaste for creating writing in high school that had never quite gone away. Art was fun because he didn’t actually have to put into understandable words what he wanted to convey for people to get his point, singing was fun because he didn’t have to think about what he was doing when he was doing it, even dance was fun because the exhaustion of it wore him out more than the thinking did, but he thinks maybe writing is just too vulnerable for him. 

He had initially planned on taking a history course to fill the requirement, one that he’d find remotely interesting and would not have to do any deep, intrisicative thinking (something he has not done since he left his hometown, lest he wants a repeat of his sophomore year of high school), but after sleeping through his registration time last year, he was left with the only choice being intro to creative writing. He figured it probably couldn’t, or hoped it wouldn’t, be too difficult, and he knew he could always ask hongjoong for help, but he didn’t want to burden the elder anymore than he had to. And, really, the introduction didn’t seem too bad, the teacher didn’t seem too strict, and everyone else in the class seemed decent by comparison to any stem class he’d had to take. But, he supposes the universe likes to mock him, because as he was settling into the idea of maybe this being his easy class for the semester, he looked down at the one page syllabus and saw that the teacher had taken to assigning a final project on the first day (which, in wooyoung’s humble experience, was never a good indication of a fun time in a class). 

‘FINAL PROJECT DUE DECEMBER 15TH, TWENTY TO THIRTY PAGE INTROSPECTIVE SHORT STORY, 12 PT FONT, TIMES NEW ROMAN, DOUBLE SPACED

People want it, people dream about it, it is different to every individual. It can complete us OR it can destroy us, who/what is your treasure? Why?’

The teacher had built off of this prompt and told the class to take notes as she went on to discuss that she wanted everyone to write a “strong paper over what one treasures, that discussed the romanticism behind the ideology he used to deduce and further backup his view point” (a bunch of words he did not understand when put next to each other)

And, either way, it was about to be San’s problem as well, over chicken that is definitely a little undercooked. Oh, the joy of college.

* * *

Wooyoung supposes he lucked out on the roommate situation, just as much as he lucked out on his first real shot of making friends, he thinks this as he’s sitting down next to a giggling San, a slightly annoyed looking Hongjoong, and a Mingi that definitely did not wake up more than twenty minutes ago. 

When Wooyoung had first moved into his dorm, he was correct in assuming that San and him got along alarmingly well (sometimes to the misery of Hongjoong). They had similar lifestyle patterns and humor, both understood personal space (or their liking of the lack thereof), and San was simply too nice to not be loved. He was always going out of his way for others, sometimes to a fault, and he was so hard working that it was impossible to not notice how much he deserved to be loved for the things he did, even when people didn’t know it the way wooyoung did. San had been the first real bundle of light in the 21 years he’d been on this planet, but Hongjoong was definitely the second. 

He had met the elder in the fashion design club, one of his extracurricular activities that he actually did care about, and for some reason they stuck together like glue. It might have something to do with the fact that the elder took one look at very lonely, slightly homesick, confusingly sad, wooyoung, and decided to help guide him through things in a way he didn’t get his first year of college, but days of texting and meeting prior to club meet time turned into nights of video games and dragging Hongjoong out of the studio so he remembered he was a person, and here they were three years later, Hongjoong entering his last year of university, and Wooyoung entering his third. He thinks they grew up well together. In a way he didn’t with his therapist. (He can’t believe his first friend was his therapist, he thinks about her often.)

Mingi was a special addition to the friend group, because he had come in last, a year after both San and Hongjoong. Truly, he owes his addition to the group to San, who met Mingi at an end of year party Wooyoung opted to skip because he always got sad when things ended and even sadder when alcohol was added to the mix. But, Mingi was funny, and handsome, and a little stupid but smart and caring when it mattered. And, very hungover right now, judging by the snoring coming from his general direction.

“No, San, you don’t understand, WHO assigns a final project on the first day?” Wooyoung, ever one for dramatics, throws his head into his hands and lays down on the cafeteria table. 

“Well, apparently, your creative writing teacher,” San snickered, like he’d just said the joke of the century. He retracts his earlier statement, San is an asshole. 

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal Woo, it’s just writing about something you’re passionate about or love, write about art or something, you are an art major, are you not?” Hongjoong asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow. 

“You all don’t get it, I might be an art major, but- AAUGHHH,” is all Wooyoung says as he throws his head back into his arms and onto the cafeteria table. 

He wants to say that it’s self sacrificial bullshit, and that, no, he doesn’t have something he’s that passionate about, because he likes art, and he enjoys his major, but he can’t say he loves it, and certainly not enough to die for it, and he doesn’t have one dream keeping him going because as much as he acts like, he doesn’t actually know what he wants to do in life  _ because he changes his mind too much _ and he is never going to be complete, and he most definitely is not going to rely on someone or something else to complete himself  _ for him _ . He doesn’t want to be complete anyway, now or ever. 

And, he doesn’t understand why he would ever give anyone the ability to hurt him, because surely if he was ever willing to die for someone, maybe they’d ask him to, too. And he would, then they’d both change, and in the end, it’d be for nothing. 

(Another reason he hates creative writing, he hasn’t thought this hard since sophomore year of high school.)


	2. yeosang's sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang knew that would really be the end, but sometimes things didn’t have to be that intense. He knew Seonghwa would likely throw a celebratory party for Yeosang’s inevitable breakup, and he laughed at the image of Jongho showing up with a cake having “Congrats on your Divorce!!!” written atop it with icing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone !! this is the first update and i tried to make it slightly longer, but it's only about 5000 words.
> 
> i have been in the process of making a playlist for this work, but for songs that inspired this chapter it would have to be 20 something by sza
> 
> cw // i thought i'd give a little bit of a heads up? there isn't ever any mention of direct abuse, but yeosang's character arc this chapter and next does deal with a mildly toxic or i guess neglectful relationship with someone else and himself. his chapters or POV is definitely deeper because that's kinda the nature of his character. to be honest i find myself relating to some of the insecurities that yeosang has expressed with fans (gemini sun correlation or causation?) but i had a lot of fun expanding on his character and including my relationships with how i view friendship and love. i also really enjoy seongsang's friendship so including that was really fun, yunho will make more of an appearance at a later time btw ^^

**[AUGUST 1, 5:37 PM]**

“I think this is the last of it hwa,” yeosang said, putting down the final box he’d hauled from his old beat up, lime green ford fiesta, to his first ever, actual apartment. 

It was weird that he’d reached a point where he was living a life far enough away from his hometown that he felt it in his chest. He had always assumed that he wouldn’t really miss it, he didn’t really like the memories associated with it, but it was the town he’d spent 20 years of his life in. A place where he recognized every weed growing in the cracks on the sidewalk and imprinted the world around him onto the back of his hand, always carrying it with him in a way he (most of the time - some of the time?) wished to get rid of, or at least fade.

He supposed maybe he’d always been a more sentimental person than he wanted to admit, but he knew it now, as he’d spent more time away in the last two years than he had visiting or even staying for the summer (which he decided to take summer courses so he did not go back even with the chance to). 

It was his junior year of college, he’d finally declared his major (with a lot of arguments through gritted teeth about the ‘usefulness’ of a bachelors in literature), and he was determined to make this year count for something. He’d never been fond of the idea of growing up, and he never once acted like he was either, but life was happening, and he had finally decided maybe he should be present while it was occurring. He owed it to himself. 

Admittedly, he didn’t actually have a whole lot of stuff to bring with him, a couple boxes and two suitcases of clothes, but he was excited to sign a lease at the apartments he’d been looking at since freshman year, a dream come true (in a sense). It was a new found freedom he wasn’t quite granted living in crummy college dorms with bad water pressure and cockroach infest hallways he’d prefer to forget.

He had been saving up through odd tutoring jobs he’d been offered by the university back in his freshman year, when his creative writing teacher had recognized he was different in the way he knew how to express himself, every paycheck had gone into his apartment funding, and when he realized seonghwa, his roommate and first college friend (maybe actual friend as well), was looking to move off campus as well, it only seemed natural that they’d stick together, he couldn’t really imagine a life in which he didn’t. 

They’d met at orientation during their freshman year, seonghwa was older than him, but had taken a gap year to figure out what he wanted to do (something yeosang wasn’t quite brave enough to do), and in a weird twist of fate, they found out they would be rooming together during orientation (yeosang had never been one to believe in fate, but maybe there was a first time for everything). Yeosang isn’t quite sure if they only got along so well because they had to, but he liked the elder. He was clean, respectful of his sleep schedule, and went nurse mode when yeosang knew he probably did need help taking care of himself during post-break-up depressions and finals season.

They’d entertained the idea of a three bedroom apartment, inviting along jongho, the freshman that yeosang had taken under his belt in a weird twist of fate and shared sense of belonging, but the younger had decided he’d continue to bank off of his free housing through scholarships, and neither him nor seonghwa would argue with that reasoning. Jongho was smarter than his own good, and they both knew he’d deserved to take advantage of that. So, here they were (seonghwa and yeosang) unpacking boxes in the space they would be together in for at least another year, possibly two, continuing to grow together, in a way that made yeosang less scared than he thought possible. It was nice to have a friend. 

Seonghwa had come into his room, unpacking at the speed of light, only to realize how much they’d lacked in essentials for the apartment, and informing yeosang that they lacked whatever would be needed to make dinner, they’d make a trip to the grocery store possibly tomorrow and celebrate the mundane in silent, unique ways, “hope you’re okay with pizza and wings, my treat.” Yeosang shrugged, not one to argue with chicken wings. 

He’d thought about inviting over his boyfriend, it having been ten days since they’d last seen each other in person, and three since they’d even talked (argued?), but he didn’t want to bother the boy, so he decided to just leave it. 

They’d been dating since the second semester of his freshman year, Minjun being a junior, and Yeosang didn’t expect it to go anywhere. It didn’t for a while, they were together for a few months, broken up for a few months, and back together again, and broken up again, in the sad cycle that was Yeosang’s love life, but after about a year and a half, and a graduation, they’d been rather ‘steady’. However, once the elder had graduated, he had spent more time than not being too busy to talk to Yeosang, and he’d tried not to overthink, but sometimes he wasn’t sure if he loved him or if he was using him to pass the time. Sometimes the guilt kept him up at night, but he’d left that question to boil on the back burner, he’d get there when he needed to.

He thinks he might have done something wrong by not offering to move in with him, but yeosang liked what he had with seonghwa, and he knew the idea would have been crazy to bring up in conversation, especially since the other preferred living alone anyway, and even more so because yeosang knew, deep down, they both were just passing the time. He could never invision a future with the older, not in any way that mattered. 

Seonghwa didn’t like Yeosang’s boyfriend and had long since stopped trying to hide the fact, so more often than not, Yeosang was over at Minjun’s place when they were together. Yeosang couldn’t say he blamed his friend, but he wanted to give Minjun the benefit of the doubt because he was nice when they were together and paid attention when it really mattered. Minjun just had to focus on the important stuff right now, Seonghwa insisted that Yeosang was the most important, but he doubted his self worth at times, and had a heart too big to contain what he was always compelled to give others. 

Yeosang loved in the ways that mattered, or at least cared. Always willing to give more than he’d get, in the natural course that he’d like. And, he wasn’t going to blame other people for his own capacity to care deeper than he was sure others ever would. 

Making small talk with Seonghwa over dinner had never been a complicated task and they discussed what they were looking forward to with this semester, something they’d do routinely in their way of asking if they were both okay. Seonghwa starting with, “We’re in our third year, insanity truly, so much is going to pick up now that you declared your major, I’ll even be starting the higher level nursing classes.” 

“Have fun suffering you nasty nasty stem student, I am just excited to get back into my writing classes, it’s kinda weird that I’ll be in the same class as the kids I’ll be tutoring, but it’ll be fun,” and Yeosang meant what he said. He liked writing because it aided in him understanding himself in ways he wasn’t sure he could be aware of when it pertained to himself. He accepted the fact that maybe putting pieces of himself into his writing was his way of conveying he wanted to be known. 

Both of them finished up their meal and made note of what they needed to pick up at the store tomorrow once they’d finished unpacking all of their stuff, before turning into bed. The next week would likely be a long one for both of them. 

* * *

**[AUGUST 18, 7:02 AM]**

Yeosang normally wasn’t an early riser, but he had no other option than the 8 am. He really tried his hardest not to complain about it because it did allow for all of his Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes to be done by noon, but he felt himself dragging along on his first day getting adjusted to the schedule. He didn’t like change, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at adapting, a survival skill he’d taught himself to perfect his first few months at college.

  
While he wasn’t an early riser, he did like getting places early, especially places that involve something important like his school work. It was an introductory course to creative writing and he was excited because he’d had the same professor for introduction to poetry and introduction to non-fiction writing and he knew she liked him (really though, who didn’t?). She’d told him as much when she’d mentioned she saw more of herself in him than she had with any previous students. Yet, she’d never fully elaborated. But, if it meant she was less harsh on the way Yeosang acted, he’d never ask questions. 

It was going to be a bit of a challenging semester because he preferred writing poetry more often, but he was excited to have a reason to write more short stories, after all, he was studying to do this for the rest of his life. 

He knew it was a class that could count as a general education requirement, and it was likely to be filled with hopeful freshmen, but there was the likelihood some of the juniors in the same boat in terms of how late they declared their major would be sitting in with him. Regardless, he didn’t talk to anyone in any of his classes anyway, so he wasn't overly worried about sticking out. He knew the teacher, knew what she expected from him, knew she didn’t like group projects, and knew he needed the class to graduate. That was enough to calm his anxiety and slight complaints.

By the time he’d made it on campus and into the Humanities building, it was 7:40. He had time to stop by the bagel shop in the art building and buy a coffee that was admittedly more cream and sugar than anything strong enough to keep him caffeinated, but it was just how he liked it. He walked into the classroom and said hello to the professor, both understanding it was too early to have an actual conversation, waiting for the other kids to walk in.

By the time class was about to start a kid with black hair and visibly out of breath strutted into the room. Yeosang tried his best not to stare or draw attention to himself, but he wouldn’t deny that the boy was ridiculously attractive for someone who had likely woke up late considering he looked as if he had just ran there. He was pretty in the way his features were sharp, but he was clearly bright, or looked as if maybe he’d tried to hard to not let the world get to him. Yeosang thinks he spends too much time looking for the good in people, and not enough time taking things for face value. 

_ Why am I thinking this? I have a boyfriend. Boyfriend? Yea.  _

Trying his best not to get lost in his thoughts, he zones back into the teacher’s introduction and listens when she covers the syllabus. He wasn’t too shocked to see that Mrs. Kang was already assigning the final, especially considering she did the exact same thing in the previous two classes he had taken with her, but he did find the project a little bit intimidating. Twenty to thirty pages was a lot, but he knew if he planned out his plot he would be capable of finishing small sections of it during his short spouts of creativity.

The prompt was what was most intimidating. The words she said were things he couldn’t quite make sense of, but he’d gotten the general gist of it. Write about something or someone you love (or maybe had loved) enough to sacrifice things for. 

He had always been a bit of a romantic, whether he liked it or not, and it had always made sense to him that love came with sacrifices. That didn’t stop him from wanting love, it certainly didn’t stop him from craving acceptance. But, Yeosang wasn’t quite sure he’d ever loved something that made him happier more often than it made him sad. Or, maybe, he just hadn’t allowed himself to.

He had lots of dreams, lots of things he’d held closer to him, within arms length of a comfortable distance, but he idealized his plans more often than enacted him, and he knew one day he’d meet someone or something that would give him motivation to reach out to them in the ways that mattered, but, for now, he was a little lost.

* * *

**[AUGUST 18, 11:55 AM]**

Keeping up his post first day back lunch tradition with Seonghwa and Jongho was easier this year than it had been previously, mainly because they’d all managed to get classes that ended around the same time. They were growing closer to yunho, but he was busier than any of the rest of them, and they understood sometimes he couldn’t be around in the way they wanted him to, something they didn’t fault him for. 

Seonghwa had just texted him that he was leaving from the nursing lab on the other side of campus, and Jongho was walking over from the theater right now. Yeosang was left alone, waiting, for the time being, but that gave him enough time to find a seat in the student union’s cafeteria, and hope that their choices for today at least kept up the illusion of being worth a $1000 meal plan. 

While he was sitting down waiting he had opened up his phone to send Minjun another text, hoping that he would get a response this time. It had been four days since they’d last spoken, and yeosang knew the other was probably doing something important, but he felt obligated to at least know a little bit about his whereabouts, maybe plan a nice evening together soon. 

He sometimes wondered if when they’d end things (because he knew it was a when and not an if) it wouldn’t be a clear cut wound, but more jagged and longer to heal. Like an infection that he couldn’t avoid, or he’d let spread if he didn’t knew how to pick up the pieces from a heartbreak where he’d poured so much into and wasn’t sure he’d ever get even half that love back, from anyone. He had once been told pain was mandatory but suffering was optional. He liked the sentiment, but wasn’t sure it was one he could put into action. 

As soon as he’d hit send he looked over and (past some random kid, head in hands, halfway screeching) was able to see seonghwa and jongho walking in together. Seonghwa was in the scrubs he had bought him for the very first christmas they spent together, and he felt his heart warm a little bit at the gesture, even though it didn’t surprise him because it was the same uniform he wore on all evaluation days for good luck. 

While he’d seen seonghwa randomly throughout summer and then for two weeks straight as they’d settled back into living together, it had been at least three months since he’d seen jongho past a facetime screen, the younger travelling home for summer and staying there as long as possible. It was always weird seeing jongho with seonghwa because he knew the age difference was there, but jongho held himself with such a degree of maturity, he oftens wonders just how he does it. 

He often thinks he hit the friendship jackpot with the others, but he tried not to tell them that too often. Yeosang was overly tenderhearted in most things he did, something he had long since been consciously aware of, but he was also reserved with how he knew how to express his emotions. He was enamoured with how every interaction he’d had with them had changed his life in ways he wasn’t even aware of at the time, all while keeping it exactly the way it should be, and sometimes it overwhelmed him to remember that seonghwa was going to be there for him from the start of freshman year to the end of their shared senior year. And, with every passing day, he watched as jongho became even more sure of his place in the world and seonghwa, even more caring of those around him. He didn’t always know how to say this, but, thankfully, they understood the way he communicated was always filled with love if you knew how to interpret what he said, and he was grateful. He didn’t know how to convey how much he loved or appreciated them in a way that wouldn’t scare them off.

He often wished there was something about him that made him shine the way his friends did, in the way seonghwa radiated a sense of security and jongho emitted a sense of strength, but it was okay that he was ordinary as well, maybe one day he’d find the beauty in that too. 

“Yo, yo, yo,” Seonghwa said, breaking his trance, as he’d walked up to him, tray in hand, with his clinic badges still on.

“Please, hyung, no more,” was all Jongho said, starting off lunch looking more ashamed of his hyung than embarrassed.    
  
They did what they normally did for semester start lunches, talked about classes, the professors, and if they seemed like they’d be hard. With the way they all described their first day of classes, maybe this semester really wouldn’t be all that bad.

* * *

**[AUGUST 27, 06:57 PM]**

It was nearing 7 pm, and it had been 23 days since he’d seen his boyfriend in person, they’d talked over the phone for a couple hours over the weekend, but it was radio silent again, and he was close to calling the other, but he knew the likelihood of it going to voicemail was higher than it was not, and he would like to avoid getting scolded for calling during an inconvenient time. Minjun would text or talk again when he could. Maybe they’d even go see a movie. 

He’d waited often for the text that was the end all be all, this time knowing the break up would likely be more permanent, but right now he had more things to worry about.

Mainly his creative writing project.

With that in mind, he checked his university work portal. He was a tutor for the english department and had been since he started. It gave him something to do, paid enough for him to scrape by, and kept it to where he didn’t spend too much time in his head. With the semester only starting a little over a week ago, most of his monday, tuesday, and thursday nights were rather slow, but he was getting paid regardless, even the nights where he would sit there alone for two or three hours.. He knew his teacher would email him the moment she had concerns about sending a student his way, and, when he checked his email, it appeared she had finally narrowed one down. (Must have been what their first - and recent - in class short story had been for, touching on the prompt of ‘ The  thing that is in  Room 101 is  the worst thing in the world ’  the worst thing in the world varies from individual to individual. It may be burial alive or death by fire, or by drowning, or by impalement, or fifty other deaths. Write about what you would find behind the door ’ He had gotten a 100).

_ Greetings Mr. Kang Yeosang, _

_ I would address this in person, but with class being so early, I had no idea when (or if) I’d have the time to talk with proper privacy about the student I am assigning you to work with.  _

_ His name is Jung Wooyoung, he is in the same section as you are, and the only other junior. It does not appear that he is a bad writer - for privacy reasons I will need his permission before I show you his first work, but it is not bad - but I will inform you of what I have noticed in his works without giving explicit details.  _

_ It appears he lacks depth to his writing, the topic was well formulated, but not performed in a way that meant he mattered. _

_ I am assigning him to you specifically because that is your area of expertise, especially as someone with a strong background in writing poetry. I worry that he will struggle with the final project if I do not address this with him as soon as I can, and this is something I want all my students to do well in. I will be speaking with him after class Monday, please do not let it shock you if he comes up to confirm information with you Wednesday of next week.  _

_ Sorry for the length of this email, I hope you have a good, safe weekend, _

_ Professor Kang Seugli _

It wasn’t the first time he’d been assigned something like this from his professor, he couldn’t blame someone for needing some extra help with certain assignments, but it was going to be rather interesting having to write his own final paper alongside teaching someone how to write theirs.

* * *

**[AUGUST 29, 2:34 PM]**

It had continued to be silent on his boyfriend’s end, but he was starting to slip away from caring. He knew he couldn’t force himself to love someone, but he was losing the like he had for Minjun as well. 

A few hours later, after studying in the cafe right outside of his apartment, he had received a text with an apology attached. His boyfriend had apparently received an offer with an internship in Daegu, and would be traveling there for a week to interview.

(Yeosang knew that would really be the end, but sometimes things didn’t have to be that intense. He knew Seonghwa would likely throw a celebratory party for Yeosang’s inevitable breakup, and he laughed at the image of Jongho showing up with a cake having “Congrats on your Divorce!!!” written atop it with icing.)

He’d started up with the draft of what he wanted his final to cover, writing a list of things he’d care about enough to be able to write a 20 page paper about, and as he stared at the group of words: friends (seonghwa), love, an achievable goal, he supposed maybe they’d all work together for his final.

He’d ponder more about it tonight, finding some of his greatest inspirations from TedTalks, and worked on the Statistics and Chinese homework he was assigned as well. Heading home around 5, after he’d effectively worn his brain out. 

The rest of the weekend proceeded to pass by carefree, but sundays were always his rest and bond days. 

* * *

**[SEPTEMBER 1, 09:35 PM]**

True to his professor's word, Jung Wooyoung came up to speak to him after class the following Wednesday. The other had a slightly ashamed look on his face, but he supposed it’d come with being told you lacked emotional depth, maybe he just didn’t know how to convey it.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, causing Yeosang to look up from his planner. 

“Listen, I hate feeling like I’m going to burden you with this. I know you’re getting paid by the university for this, but is there anything else I can offer,” and wooyoung did look sympathetic. He’d noticed they’d skipped formalities, but that came with the professor informing both of them prior to this meeting.

Yeosang thought it was sweet that the other had 1) no hesitation in coming up to address him (making Yeosang’s job a lot easier) and 2) enough consideration to take into account that trying to rewire the way someone expresses emotion in writing was not going to be easy. Yeosang also had a sneaking suspicion that Wooyoung was already convinced he was a lost cause. Wearing the same expression Seonghwa had come back to their dorm with the first time he’d assumed he’d failed a chemistry test he had later gotten a 88 on.

(All that to say sometimes a person’s perception of what they were capable of was altered by the insecurities that came with the thought that they were alone in their struggles. This was seldom the case for Seonghwa, and soon to be, Wooyoung.)

Yeosang was rather unsteady in the way he knew how to interact with other people. He blames it on the fact that he was raised in solitary, siblings that were old enough that there was a disconnect in the places they were at in life. It could also be due to the fact that he was an introvert, and spent more time trying to make sense of himself than he did other people.

Thus he’d blurted out the most recent line of poetry he’d stumbled across on his instagram explore page, under the tab of things he’d searched for for inspiration. 

“There are no bargains between lion and men, I will kill you and eat you raw,”  _ way to make an introduction yeosang _ , Wooyoung was definitely confused by that, if he wore his emotions on his face readily, in a way that Yeosang was incapable of doing in its entirety. 

“My name’s yeosang, supposed you already knew thanks to Ms. Kang, and you already said I was getting paid by the university to do this, just try hard enough and I won’t fault you for taking up my time.” 

And he watched as the look on Wooyoung’s face went from shock to slight terror to definite confusion, before softening into an unreadable expression that was probably a somewhere in between mix of the previous three. 

“Okay, well … I guess we better exchange numbers then …” and wooyoung sounded apprehensive (not that yeosang could blame him) but it’s not like he had any other options. 

They swapped phones long enough to input digits, and discussed the way their schedules laid out. They’d both be a little late to their next class, but neither of them seemed to mind too much for once. 

Luckily, for both of them, Wooyoung had Tuesdays completely free and was done with classes at 11:35 every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The schedules laid out in a way that was almost too good to be true, but yeosang had learned to take the good without questions asked, lest the universe decide to give him the bad instead.

They both decided Thursdays wouldn’t work for either of them, yeosang opting to leave that day open for other students, and wooyoung having a dance workshop for four hours every Thursday evening that yeosang is in the library for anyway. 

Yeosang thinks that maybe Wooyoung was agreeable enough that he’d make a new friend somewhere along the way, if he’d learned to try.

* * *

The  thing that is in  Room 101 is  the worst thing in the world ’  the worst thing in the world _varies from individual to individual. It may be burial alive or death by fire, or by drowning, or by impalement, or fifty other deaths. Write about what you would find behind the door. (300-500 words, third person POV with reflection on personal inner monologues)_

He pretended like there wasn’t much he feared, but in reality, he was scared of a lot of things. The dark and sometimes clowns and the cockroaches he forces seonghwa to crush when they make their way into the shared dorm, now apartment, during the dead of winter. Maybe even his own self, on the night he'd lost sleep in exchange for questioning how much more there was left of himself to discover. He tended to hide from his inner monologue and bury his face underneath his covers in the middle of the night during the time he couldn't sleep, and sometimes he had to shut his eyes in the shower for fear that a slimy, green monster would crawl up from the shower drain and devour him whole. 

But, he realizes, the thing that scares him most was the concept of love, and how much he was willing to give away to other. A fact he'd not realized until he thought too deeply about what he feared. Not the idea of oneself others had come to know, larger than life when need be and sarcasm as a second nature, no fear of the shade never around when he was with the ones he'd cherished and held too close for his own good, but completely afraid of it at the same time because for all of his virtues, he knew he would never make his way into the others life the way the others had wedged himself into his life. To Yeosang, Seonghwa was the better half of the life he needed to live, one in which he saw his self worth, and wanted to make a change for others, expecting others to show the same compassion because he knew it was what he deserved. Seonghwa was the strength one only had when they realized that slowing down mid race was better than not finishing at all, leaving Jongho as the perserverance that came with knowing an outcome achieved when the work was put in was worth more than the pain he'd endure along the way. 

Yeosang was aware that behind the door was the fact that he wasn't like his friends and he wasn't sure he was capable of finding the beauty in the ordinary anymore than he was capable of understanding why he loved so much, and why he spent more than half his time contemplating the concept of fate and coincidence and if maybe it was all a hoax. 

But, that left him facing something nasty about himself, something gruesome and ugly and altogether unbearable if he sat with it in his hands for a little bit too long. Something that he knew wasn’t wrong and something that felt wrong anyway. Something he was trying not to see as a fault, yet always feeling like one. He was two steps behind and two steps forward, missing out on the points in life he was meant to be living, caught up in the fact that this was a fate he was resigned too. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first update !!!!! i tried to make it slightly longer even if it's only about 5000 words, but these next few chapters I'm planning to pick up, i think maybe next chapter i will end up combing both of their perspectives to lengthen it, but that means next update probably won't be for another two-three weeks (college classes are unfortunately picking up so finding time to squeeze in writing comes few and far between). 
> 
> chaptered fics are fun when they're done, but i am impatient by nature, and i figure most of anyone reading this might feel the same way? also that one lines about 'pain is mandatory, suffering is optional' comes from a tiktok from @imp_of_the_perverse, i can't link the video but it was posted on January 6th. it really resonated with me.
> 
> my twitter is CHOIPRNT (the i is an L btw!!) tbh it's still a work in progress because i'm starting fresh with the account, but if you're interested feel free to follow me!!
> 
> see you again in a couple weeks ^^  
> \- nadia
> 
> (fun fact: that last bit was actually a slightly edited version of something i wrote for a markhyuck fic based on an actual prompt i got in my creative writing class)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever actual post here so i am very nervous, but i hope you end up liking it! i am by no means the worlds best writer, but i am trying to get back in touch with my creative side, and ateez has inspired me in a way i didn't realize was possible.  
> of course, wooyoung and yeosang have a special place in my heart, and their friendship/dynamic is one that I admire greatly.
> 
> i am really interested in pov and character analysis, so i am planning on rotating pov every chapter. i am a college student so my uploading schedule might be a little hectic, but i can not stand unfinished work, so i will try to upload at least once a week. i think my end goal for this is 10-12 chapters, so be on the look out for that. also, these first two chapters are a little shorter because i am taking them as an introduction for whats later to come, the third chapter will definitely be longer (i hope?)
> 
> thank you so much for the support!  
> \- nadia 
> 
> (p.s. should i link my twitter?)


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